A Story of Franz Liszt aka the Black Aura
by The Fictionist Aura
Summary: Running his fingers through his hair, Franz Liszt glared at the hideous device that humani call a cell phone. Of course, that wasn't his name this century. He had picked a unique name, Severus Snape.
1. Chapter 1

Running his fingers through his hair, Franz Liszt glared at the hideous device that humani call a cell phone. Of course, that wasn't his name this century. He had picked a unique name, Severus Snape, in 1900 to replace his olden name of the 1800s, Gedeon Benedek. Nauseating scents of potion ingredients made his eyes water as he waited for the important call. Instead of the usual lonely cottage in the wilderness, which he preferred, he had been forced into the public eyes of wizardry, mainly by Heather Glen, formally known to the world as Annie Oakley.

Niccolò Machiavelli had practically raised her after her awakening and immoralization in 1887, as he often called it, and in the process revealed two very different sides of the Metamorphmagus. She could be cruel when she needed to. The act of possessing an aging humani and brainwashing her into believing she was indeed Annie Oakley was only one of the many acts that earned her the title of the Violent Violet aura. He himself had done some pitiless things during his years in the service of the Dark Elders as well. His title was similar, the Black Aura. Heather could also be light and funny, the side of her that she mostly showed around him. Her body remained frozen at the age of twenty-seven while his was at thirty-one. This century, she had cleverly forced him to become potions master of Hogwarts, knowing that his sense of smell would irritate him to no end while there. Lucky for him, it was June, summer break but his clothes still smelled of potions no matter how many times he attempted to wash them. "Bloody Heather."

The sudden noise of wood against his vibrating cell filled the air, making him jump. He quickly opened the flip open design and pressed send, leaving it on the table. His phone was on speaker, as it always was. The last thing he wished to do was put the thing next to his ear like the humani often did. Not only did it hurt his ears immensely, but he felt ridiculous doing so.

_Your talents are needed, Severus._

His master's hoarse voice called him by his "fake" name with amusement.

_The Violent Violet will meet you in Paris. She has been told the Black Aura will meet her under the Eiffel Tower at ten in the morning. Fit the role._

Severus frowned slightly. Did his master think he was too friendly with Heather? Because that could all easily change….

_Fire, earth and air will be used to slow down the Alchemist. Nothing more. Dee wishes for it._

The midget Magician once again on top of his Elder in power.

"Air, you say?" He spoke for the first time in the conversation. He was a master of fire and alchemy, Heather a mistress of earth and sorcery. Though they had both mastered all five elements, they had favorites. Both were not keen on the element of air.

_Another humani will assist._

An unknown. Great, just what he needed on top of the Alchemist and Dee.

_Machiavelli is involved. Beware him._

Severus's master was not fond of Machiavelli or Heather. He didn't particularly like the fact that one of his most powerful humani was close to them. Snape smirked. He loved annoying authority.

"Yes, Master."

A click on the line was heard before it went dead. "To Paris I go." Severus murmured. Picking up the cell with his left hand, he entered in a speed dial he had Draco install a while back. Blinking on the screen were the words "Calling Heather". 


	2. Chapter 2

She answered on the fourth ring. "Yes?" Behind her cheery tone, Severus sensed a bit of annoyance.

"The mistress of air aggravating you to no end?"

"Yes, very much so," Heather breathed, switching the conversation into Latin. "She's as arrogant and bothersome as the new ones come, marveling over her talents, her so called talent of blowing useless things to bits. She's – wait, you knew it was going to be a woman?"

"It wasn't that hard to guess. My master isn't that fond of men as his agents, especially after me." Setting the cell phone in his collar, he opened his storage closet and pulled out an already packed suitcase. Remembering what his master had mentioned as to fitting his role, he changed the subject, trying to sound indifferent. "When's my flight?"

"In three minutes, number 9, business," answered Heather, just as coldly.

"What?" Severus snarled. He pulled the phone from his collar, hating the feeling of it on his neck. "How do you expect me to travel that fast without -"

"Use your head, Snape." She snapped in response. "You need to get here fast anyways. Remember what a time difference is? Or have you forgotten because your poor nose is too stuffed with the scents of wizardry. Get here. Soon." The line went dead instantly afterward.

The nerve of the woman! He slammed the device on his table in a rare fit of rage. There was a crunching sound and a small beep. "And to top that off, I just killed my phone…again." Seething, he grabbed his traveling coat, wondering how to get to his flight in three minutes. After one minute, he suddenly felt like an idiot. Apparition, of course! It had been a long time since he had done it last but clearly, Heather didn't know that nor cared. And with a thundering crack, he arrived at the nearest muggle airport that he knew of, standing in a bathroom stall with his suitcase in one hand. Leaving the vacant room, he went to terminal nine just as they were announcing for the business class to board. He sighed, eying the flight attendant that was blatantly staring at his face. After a little bit of Legilimency, he realized that she was looking at his eye color. A sudden smirk formed on his face. If only she knew how expensive his custom eye contacts were.

Heather Glen stared at the ceiling of a guest room in Niccolò Machiavelli's home with a frown plastered firmly on her face. Though most people in France would do anything to be in Machiavelli's grand mansion, she really hated the idea of staying here for the next couple days. Especially with that woman. She muttered a few angry words in Italian. Almost immediately, an odor of fish reached her nostrils and Dagon walked into the room. "Something wrong, Miss Machiavelli?" Everyone in the "business", as Liszt preferred to call it, had given her the last name of Machiavelli after her many years of apprenticeship with Niccolò. At times, it was nice to hear but not now. It reminded her of a metal brace, trapping her in the context of a single name.

"Nothing that can't be solved," she murmured, pulling herself up from lying on the bed. Her purple tunic was practically suffocating her but she had a feeling that she needed to be on alert today, especially after the awful phone call with Liszt a few hours ago.

"Niccolò wishes to speak with you privately before you leave for your station."

Nodding her head absent – mindedly, she stuffed her feet into the three inch purple heels that she had decided to wear for the fight with Flamel. She frowned again, thinking of Flamel. Their history together put a great strain of doing her job. But then again, nearly everyone has been entangled with the Flamels before and after joining the Dark Elders. Pictures of Dee being apprenticed by Nicholas, Machiavelli fighting Perenelle and Liszt yelling at Nicholas flashed through her mind as she headed for the front door. As promised, her long time mentor stood at the door, studying her very carefully. "Still angry with the new girl, Andrea, I see." He mumbled in gentle French.

"More like hear. Tell me, did you always eavesdrop on me all those years ago?"

His gray eyes looked tired and his lips reminded in a thin line. "Be careful. Don't let that fiery temper of yours ruin it." He grasped her chin rigidly in his hand. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." Heather shook her head loose of his tight grip and started to grab the doorknob, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling that she was being tested. Niccolò promptly embraced her in a fierce hug. Blushing frantically, she returned the affection for five long seconds before she heard footsteps and pulled away out of instinct. Andrea of Air came strutting in the space, a slim woman of six-foot stature and had a light blue summer dress and boots to match. Her straight blond locks of twenty – one years were loose, opposite to Heather's practical ponytail of centuries. "Well? Where's the Black Aura?"

"He'll meet us under the Eiffel Tower at ten, as I have told you many times." Heather glared at the stick of a woman that stood before her. "We're leaving." Without glancing at Machiavelli, she yanked the door open and headed for the sleek limousine that was waiting patiently for them. Behind her, she heard the briefest of exchanges of words between Machiavelli and Andrea before the door closed.

"Wait for me, will you?" Heather gritted her teeth together in an effort to smile at the blithering idiot that she would have to be alone with for the next forty minutes. It was going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 3

Severus's eyes narrowed at the flight assistant who had snatched his briefcase from him and was now shoving it continuously in and out of the top storage to make it fit. If the woman had a brain, she would look, then shove. With a little snort, he relaxed in his seat, frowning. He hated taking planes but his master didn't like a lot of displays of his wizard powers. Well that and he was horrible on a broom.

"Excuse me, sir?" An attractive twenty – something year old was looking at him nervously. Probably because he look like a pedophile.

"Yes?" Her eyes widen considerably at the sound of his voice.

"Do you mind if I take the window seat?" Her eyes were hovering over the suitcase that was set next to him.

"If you're in need of a seat, no." He reached over and placed the case on his lap.

Clutching her oversized purse protectively, she slid into the seat and began to stare out of the window to avoid eye contact.

Ignoring her obvious discomfort, he reached into his coat pocket, took out a small book, opened it and began reading about the side effects of continuous use of polyjuice potion. Forty minutes into the flight, Severus felt someone tap his shoulder. "What?"

"S – sir?"

Argh, he thought, the blonde muggle. "Yes? What?"

"I couldn't help notice the title of the book you're reading. The Cons of The Ever So Popular Potions of Today."

"And?" He hated when muggles got nosy. Usually, he ignored them but he couldn't ignore her because she was so close. He'd probably have to obliviate her before they landed.

"Are you part of some sort of Wicca community? Because…I've been thinking. Of converting, I mean. I –"

"No," he hissed. Why did people always ask that question? He had no idea what Wicca was nor cared about it. Which remained him of another annoying situation. He had been summoned to Hogwarts for a staff meeting in preparation for the fall semester and Albus had told him that Remus Lupin would be the new defense against the dark arts teacher. He let out a sudden snort of contempt, causing the blonde next to him to jump up again. Not that Severus noticed, of course. He was too busy picturing Lupin drowning in a giant cauldron of polyjuice potion.

"And then I was like, 'Well then bring it, old man!'," Andrea continued to gesture with her hands, resembling (in Heather's opinion) a drunk Machiavelli.

"Miss Machiavelli?" Dagon eyed the rear view mirror with concern. If he didn't do something soon, he had a feeling Heather was going to kill Andrea before she got out of the limo.

"Yeah?"

"We're just about ready to pass the Tower. I suggest you leave quickly"

"Finally," Andrea leaped out of the limo, followed by a less enthusiastic Heather. "That fish thing drives slower than my grandma." This, unfortunately, lead into a whole one sided conversation about said person, which Heather didn't bother to pay attention to, her eyes focused on a black figure under the Eiffel Tower. The air had the faint smell of mushrooms. "Hey, where are you going?"

Heather broke into a run, not caring about what the blonde would think. She needed someone who actually had a brain to talk to after those forty minutes of torture. As soon as she reached Severus, she wrapped her arms around his middle before frowning at the fact that he hadn't responded at all. She continued to squeeze him until she feel two arms on her back and a light whisper to her ear. "Not now." Immediately Heather pulled away, mouth formed into a pout.

"The Black Aura," Andrea whispered, voice lathered with awe as she stared at Severus with a strange sort of longing in her eyes. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance." She held out a perfectly manicured hand.

"The pleasure is all yours." He hissed in reply, glaring at the hand like one might a gun. The hand dropped instantly. The Mistress of Air went rigid and narrowed her eyes at him before putting her hands on her hips and sulking off to the right.

"Nice," murmured Heather, eyes still glued to his face, which was unfathomable as ever, and ears perking up slightly to the slap of leather on concrete coming from the left of them.

"Stop or I shoot!" Nostrils took in the scent of sour mint.

"Flamel," snarled Severus, eyes wide in anger and hand cupping a fireball.

"Control your anger, Snape," Heather continued to murmur, remaining calm despite the raw anger smoldering out of her partner as they ran toward the shouting.

And sure enough they came face to face with Nicholas Flamel himself, a group of armed police hot in pursuit. As soon as he saw the pair, he stopped, a gasp escaping him. "Franz?" He eyed the fireball in shock. "I thought you were…"

"Dead?" A low chuckle cut through the air. "I suppose one must get used to your fantasies, Flamel." Severus hurled the fireball in the air, which exploded into eight fire arrows. One scorched Flamel's left hand and pinned his arm to the ground while the rest took care of the police team.

"I refuse to have any assistance!" Snape yelled, spit flying from his mouth as he turned to Heather. She stood still, too shocked from Severus's lost of control to move. Meanwhile, Flamel struggled against the arrow, already exhausted from his run. Franz took a step forward, towering over the Alchemist. "You were always the pathetic kind, weren't you?" Flamel felt his side go numb as Snape kicked him in blind rage, lungs choking on the heavy fumes of mushroom in the air.

"You killed him!" The Black Aura roared. "You killed him and you hurt her." He kneeled down beside the old man, eyes on fire as his hand hovered over his neck. "You know what her last words were? They were 'save me'. She wanted to be saved from you….the man who hurt her beyond repair. Well, I couldn't save her but I can sure as hell make sure you don't get your hands on any more twins."

"Franz," Flamel whispered softly. "You know I regret – "

"Don't you talk to me about regret!" the man growled in response. "I -"

"Franz." Heather's breathing quickened as his head spun to look at her. She could see his black aura wrapping around Nicholas's throat. "You can't kill him."

His answer terrified her more than his face. "Watch me."

Sorry for it being choppy….. :) or maybe it's just the mushrooms getting to me. The scene's from page 142 of The Magician by Michael Scott. Hogwarts is coming up soon, I promise!


	4. Chapter 4

Ok I apologize for the complete deadness of this story but I just read Warlock so I'm in a Machiavelli mood now! So this chapter will be Flamel based. In fact, my original character (Heather) was the person I wanted to focus on but I realize that you can't have a crossover without something other than a character from one side so after these next two chapters I am determined to have a chapter take place in Hogwarts.

Machiavelli quietly sat in his expensive limo seat, a pair of binoculars hovering over his eyes. The limo was parked far away from underneath the Eiffel Tower and though his awakened ears were supposed to give him the ability to hear what the Black Aura was saying, his exhaustion from conjuring a tulpa was effecting his scents. He hadn't make a tulpa that big in decades and the frustration of the twins escape was still fresh in his mind.

"What's this?" He murmured, focusing in on the black bits of aura that seemed to be choking Flamel. Heather was yelling by the look of it and then suddenly the Black Aura threw a small fireball into her waist, knocking her backward on the ground.

Her body remained still as the Andrea of Air reappeared, a small whirlwind beginning to form inside of her hands. Andrea stood for a few moments, watching Flamel being choked. Then she threw the whirlwind directly at Flamel, breaking the choking bond on his throat.

"Stupid girl." His neck tightened at the sheer idiocy of what the girl just did. Flamel was free for a second but that would be all he needed. Without preamble, he threw a green blur that split into two spinning cleavers that were aimed at both of the standing warriors. Though Machiavelli couldn't see, one of Heather's eyes had opened at the strong scent of mint.

The air mistress was knocked to the ground by the cleaver which then transformed into some sort of sticky liquid. She was trying to get up but unsuccessful. The Italian's lips curled into a smile. Snape, however, had dodged the attack in time and was forming something deadly with his aura, blackness completely surrounding him.

"Heather." She had suddenly sprung up just as Flamel had begun to run away. She made no attempt to capture him. Machiavelli saw Heather reach out to touch the Black Aura but instantly, a lighting burst from the aura itself hit her in the shoulder. He frowned. What was happening?

A deep purple haze cloaked her arm briefly and then solidified into a metal glove and punch the black cloud in the center. Immediately Snape lost his concentration and the black blur he had been harvesting in his hands vanished along with the Alchemyst, much to Machiavelli's irritation. "What is she doing?" he snapped, heart hammering at yet another failure. The car was filled with the smell of serpent.

"Dagon, take me there. Now."

(division mabob)

Heather could hear the screeching of car tires and had a feeling Machiavelli was coming to kill her. She would have killed herself had she been him. To attack an ally and let the enemy go was insanity and suicide in this world. Yet, Flamel didn't feel like an enemy. Seeing him lying helpless, choking to death brought back memories of the apprenticeship she had had with him many years ago. How kind he had been to her and what marvels he had shown her, marvels different from what Machiavelli showed her. Her emotions clouded her judgment and she had helped him escape. And now she was going to die for it.

Or at least it would seem.

"You. Stupid. Little. ARGH!" Snape, completely fueled by rage, had aimed a fire arrow directly into her heart. She was forced into a coughing fit, clutching the arrow blindly as her torso caught fire. Summoning all of her strength, she used a spell her master had once taught her and evaporated into a purple smoke cloud that flew up into the sky and out of sight. She could hear the Black Aura's roar and smelled sour mushrooms in the air as she left.

A/N – Next chapter will include Heather and the next chapter after that will be Snape in Hogwarts, probably a Lupin scene. If you have suggestions, please write them in a review and I will gladly consider them :) thank you for reading and I hope you liked it!


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